


Under the baking Sun.

by Charles Edward Stewart (eddiecharlesstewart)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternative Universe-World war III, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, North Africa, Padre! Nico, Soldier! Percy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiecharlesstewart/pseuds/Charles%20Edward%20Stewart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting in North Africa Percy falls for the base Padre... politics and war will separate them but they aren't very good at staying apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the baking Sun.

Percy sat on a battered torn and abhorrently filthy couch. Beside him his sergeant, Grover munched down a huge veggie burger. The dappled shade of the camouflage awning was a glorious escape from the blinding, baking light of the North African sun. The young captain slurped noisily at his coke much to the irritation of his intelligence officer, Annabeth Chase, who growled playfully at him for interrupting her debate with Reyna, the communications technician, about the merits of renaissance over neo-cubic architecture. Beside him the men of his squad screamed at the antiquated television as England whipped America in the Rugby tournament. Annabeth cast them a glare of disapproval. Octavian the British Intelligence officer on base grinned smarmily.  
From the shady confines of the gloomy mud shack that served as a chapel, the Padre, a young Italian man, strode out to see the source of the cries.  
“What is this?” He asked, his voice lilting in a deep Italian accent. Percy looked on at him with approval.  
“Rugby!” Octavian cried.  
“Football” the Americans retorted.  
“I’m sure football involves kicking a ball about a pitch…” the swarthy Padre mediated.  
“Ha!” Octavian howled.  
“Oh Yeh?” Conner and Travis Stoll, the team’s machine gunners, grunted.  
“Yeh!” Reyna, added disgruntled.  
“Traitor” the Americans hissed.  
“Let’s just agree to disagree.” Frank, the Canadian on the team, piped up.  
Nico fixed him a disapproving glare, the young Padre enjoyed watching these little disagreements, also Frank was dating Nico’s half-sister, the Medic- Hazel. Frank turned ghostly pail under the small man’s steely gaze.  
“Oh God… the humiliation…” Conner and Travis gasped as England scored another try.  
“Whoop!” Octavian yelled.  
Percy watched the small skinny medic with his tan skin and wide, brown eyes with the interest of a predator stalking his prey. The young padre flashed him a knowing grin before turning tale and striding away from the assembled men.  
“Oh if anyone needs someone to talk to… I’m your man Signor.” Nico cried as he left.  
Percy, like a whipped puppy, leapt to his feet and scrambled after the tiny Italian to a chorus of wolf whistles.  
Nico strode into the dull confines of his service Chapel, the thick mud walls kept it cool and fresh despite the stifling heat pervading outdoors.  
Once inside he turned awaiting impatiently the arrival of Captain Jackson, the young hero was never far from his heels.  
Seconds later Percy sloped into the shaded confines of the Padres chapel, looking bashfully about the room, his cheeks ablaze.  
“Err…” Percy stuttered.  
“Yes Captain…?”  
“Err”  
The young padre chuckled brightly, grinning widely at the blushing boy before him.  
Nico leant back against his desk. “What is it you came to ask me?”  
“Err…Well…You see…” Percy mumbled.  
“No I don’t really see.” Nico cut in, grinning like a shark.  
“Iwantedtoaskyouout…onadate” Percy panted.  
“WHAT?”  
“I wanted to ask if you… would do me the honour of… going out? Sometime? Anytime?” Percy stuttered out, staring bashfully at his booted feet as his cheeks turned deeper crimson.  
“What?”  
“Would…”  
“I heard you that last time… but why?” Nico cut in once again.  
“Well…” Percy muttered, shuffling his feet, “I…I…I really like you…and …”  
“Ok” Nico stated.  
“Wha???” Percy gawped.  
“Yes, It would be my pleasure to make your more intimate acquaintance” Nico said with fake pompous.  
Percy grinned as he rushed forward to grasp the little padre in his arms, pulling the small Italian against his chest.  
The smaller man Leant up on his tiptoes and Percy bent his neck as their lips met in a chaste kiss. Percy suddenly lifted the skinny Italian in his arms, hefting the smaller man up to deepen the kiss. Appreciative moans sounded from Nico as Percy's tongue did sinful things inside Nico's mouth.  
They were abruptly stopped when an awkward knock interrupted their amorous embraces.  
The Units commander Chiron strode in as the two young men sprung apart to stand stiffly breaths short and cheeks aflame.  
“At ease men!” he called, “I was told I would find you here.”  
“Yes Sir?”  
“I have a mission for you,” Chiron said with a grimace.  
“Yes Sir?”  
“It’s called Operation Marathon… I want your squad to deploy on the ridge overlooking the beaches to the West. You will repel the enemies landing forces and if possible drive them back into the sea whence they came! Then return to defend the base at the double! Understood?”  
“Yes Sir!”  
“Dismissed!”  
Percy strode out, casting a longing almost mournful glance at Nico as he walked into the blinding glare of the North African sun.  
He marched towards his squad calling out for the men to assemble in the map room immediately. Just before he entered the room, Nico caught up with him. the small Italian grasped his sleeve and tugged the older boy back.  
“Oh, it’s you!” Percy chirped grinning happily.  
“Si I just wanted to wish you luck, mio amore” Nico whispered grasping the taller boys shoulders to pull him down for a quick kiss.  
The soldiers of Percy’s squad erupted in a chorus of jeers and wolf whistles from their vantage point in the map room.  
Percy read faced stepped back and still dazed from the kiss tottered into the map room to the smug grins of his team. Annabeth passed Reyna a small bundle of cash muttering under her breath. Leo snatched a chocolate bar from Frank and Hazel blushed darkly.  
“Right…. To order….” Percy stuttered to the amusement of his team.  
“we will deploy along this ridge…..” Percy began the briefing.

 

It was several hours and once heart wrenching goodbye later that Percy lay in the sand above the beaches west of Tobruk, his team, armed to the teeth were arrayed along the ridge, dug in as they awaited the enemy’s landings with trepidation. On the horizon hulking black shadows betrayed the enemy’s landing crafts approaching the shore. As they neared it became apparent the small band of allies was hopelessly outnumbered.  
“Should have called it Fucking Operation Thermopylae.” Conner muttered.  
“ More like Isandlwanda” Octavian cursed quietly.  
“Silence in the ranks!” Reyna hissed.  
Beside Percy, his number two, Jason whispered, “How will we hold them back?”  
“You’ll see!” Percy murmured.  
Soon the crunch and grind of metal on stone betrayed the enemy’s arrival on the shore.  
The enemy carelessly stumbled ashore; some were noticeably sea sick, within moments the beach was filling up with a great mass of soldiers who in the absence of any clear commanders or officers, milled aimlessly about on the exposed shore. Suddenly Percy lit a flare. The ball of firy light shot into the air, illuminating the horror struck enemy below. Suddenly Percy's squad began firing, machine guns and rifles cracking as a hail of fire sunk into the disorganised and frenzied mass of soldiers below. While the enemy were in shock, Percy, Jason, Grover, Clarisse, Conner, Travis, Frank and a few others Fixed bayonets to their rifles and charged down the slope.  
The sight of these soldiers charging down upon them, in a blood fury, was enough to convince the enemy to flee. Many abandoned their weapons and scrambled aboard their boats, rushing to escape the slaughter. The rest, caught unprepared were cut down by the hardened soldiers charging down upon them.  
As quick as it had begun, the battle was won.  
Percy ordered his men withdraw and in and orderly fashion they marched back to base.  
In the distance dull flashes and echoed booms signalled an enemy assault further down the coast had fared better.  
The squad were quick to slink off to their bunks when they returned.  
Percy stumbled into his quarters, having abandoned his kit in the armoury to find a very adorable Italian Padre slumped across his bed. The older boy, tugged of his remaining uniform and slunk in beside Nico, pulling the smaller boy into a hug as he slung the covers over them both.

The next morning they awoke to the sound of shells in the distance. Percy rushed to the battlements, followed closely by Nico, to see columns of smoke marking the extent of the foes advances along the coast.  
Percy retreated quickly to breakfast, in the mess he sat beside Nico, supping on coffee and sugary sweet cereal. The Italian munched on a pastry and sipped an espresso as he listened carefully to the radio.  
Suddenly the old wireless crackled to life in an official announcement.  
“Today…We have received the following announcement from the Italian ambassador to London… Unfortunately the Italian Government has saw decided to break our alliance… And henceforth it shall fight for the enemy… As a result we are now at war with Italy… All units are immediately advised to arrest, pending imprisonment… All Italians within their forces…”  
“Cazzo, Cazzo, Cazzo” Nico hissed.  
“???”  
“Shite” Nico translated crassly.  
Percy turned distraught to Nico. “Let’s get you out of here…”  
Shielding Nico from the dumbstruck soldiers of the garrisons view Percy led him to the officers private quarters. Already an angry mob of the soldiers of the regular garrison was storming about, hunting down perceived spies.  
“We must get you out of here… you can escape to the enemy… at least for the time being…” Percy whispered, the mere thought of separation flooding his eyes with tears.  
Through equally tear filled eyes Nico stared in awe at his lover.  
There was a sharp bang on the door.  
“Sir… we need to get Nico out of here” Annabeth hissed. Percy slung the door open to fing his entire squad waiting to help the young Padre escape.  
“But… this is treason… I will do it alone…” Percy grunted.  
“NO!” Jason shouted.  
“That was an order!” Percy yelled.  
“Shut up!” Annabeth and Reyna stated as one.  
“Wha…?” Percy gawped.  
“We’re all helping” the girls added as one.  
“Ok” Percy sighed.

It was a nerve racking few hours as they slipped Nico past the rampant mob, thought the bases fortified gate, past patrols and watch towers and out into the deserts emptiness. They stopped about a mile from the enemies lines. The armoured truck ground to a halt. The squad wished Nico farewell with a teary goodbye.  
Percy and Nico slipped from the truck. The older boy pulled the tiny Italian to his chest.  
“I-I-I want you to know… I love you… my little one” Percy whimpered softly in Nico’s ear.  
“Mio Amore, mio valoroso soldato” Nico drawled.  
“What was that?” Percy whispered softly.  
“My love… my brave soldier” Nico chuckled softly.  
“I-I-I… Remember me…” Percy whispered before pressing a soft kiss to Nico’s nose.  
Tears openly streamed down Nico's reddened cheeks until Percy softly wiped them off with his thumbs.  
Percy passed Nico a kit bag, wrapping the others limp fingers around the bag.  
“T-t-there’s a canteen of water… a flask of scotch… a pistol fully loaded and a picture of the two of us… Oh and one of our units standards… I thought you might need one…” the soldier’s breath caught in his throat.  
“Thanks…” Nico whimpered softly.  
“Goodbye… When it’s all over… I’ll meet you at your ‘castello’ in Amalfi.”  
“How?”  
“I must go…” Percy suddenly whispered. He turned slowly, his whole body heavy with grief.  
The older boy slipped into the truck, slumping down heavy with dejection into his seat before with much spluttering of the engine they pulled away, into the inky blackness of the desert night.

Nico stood alone in the cool desert night, watching as the truck carrying his heart and his friends pull away into the darkness. Suddenly all alone for the first time in almost a year, Nico felt a sense of desperate isolation, all alone…  
With weary body, Nico trudged slowly across the desert sands, westward following the stars to the lines of his new allies. The sack weighed heavy on his back and the loss of Percy weighed heavier still on his heart as he plodded slowly on through the barren wastelands of the Sahara.

In a few hours he neared the lines of those once considered the foe.  
A patrol of grey coated soldiers picked him up. With false smiles and poor words of friendship they led him to an area behind the lines where a mass of Italian soldiers were assembled.  
A youngish officer approached, a boyish face and pressed uniform lending him the air of a toy soldier..  
“I’m Giorgio Basurto, I’m a lieutenant. Who’re you?”  
“I’m Nico di Angelo… I was a Padre… at Tobruk…”  
“You’re the senior officer here then”  
“What?” Nico gasped aghast.  
“Well the senior officers all refused to join the Boshe and as their officers they were all high and mighty they were put under a gentleman’s house arrest.” The boy soldier grunted disgruntled.  
“Oh…”  
“These are your men… one hundred of the finest… if slightly ill-disciplined, Italian soldiers in North Africa.” Giorgio added. “What do you want us to do?”  
“Err…”  
“The Enemy… I mean our new allies… have requested I-you-we, prepare the men for combat…but”  
“Quite right… I didn’t sign up to fight for these damn cretins!” Nico cursed. “Damn our Government!”  
“To right!” The younger officer cried.

An armoured car pulled up beside the Italian officers.  
A tall, lean man with blonde hair and a scared face stepped from the vehicle, smiling like a snake he approached the two men.  
“I see the officer corps has arrived” he said with disdainful jest.  
“Yes, I am Nico di Angelo, former Padre and Captain at Tobruk,” Nico grunted roughly.  
“I’m Lieutenant Giorgio Basurto, Former infantry commander with the Desert Rats.”  
“Two distinguished officers I see.” The man said with sickening smoothness. “I am Luke Castellan, Major-general of the Africa Korp. This is my adjutants Alabaster and Ethan”  
The two men behind him leered at Nico creepily.  
“Ok…” Nico grunted.  
“I shall be expecting you Italians, to contribute to our war effort here in Africa… We will be assaulting Tobruk within the week; I hope you will acquit yourselves well on the front lines.” Luke said with a cruel grin.  
“I’m sure we will not disappoint” Nico replied with a weary voice. The three officers of the foe turned to leave. “Bastardos” Nico hissed.  
“Cazzo!” Giorgio spat.  
“We will not be attacking Tobruk!” Nico grunted.  
“Wha…? How?”  
“Gather a committee of soldier’s deputies… N.C.O’s and the likes.” Nico dictated, “Then we’ll plan our defection.”  
“Yes, Sir!”  
The young lieutenant then ran off to gather the required men.

A short while later, Nico stood before the new formed Soviet of Soldiers Deputies.  
“I think we are all agreed that we will not fight for the Huns?”  
A chorus of hollered agreements answered.  
“Then what should be done?”  
Silence met this.  
“I suggest we will advance on Tobruk and at the last moment we will turn on the fritz… I can send a message to my old team… they will convince the garrison to aid us.” Nico continued. “also we’ll need one handkerchief for every man!”  
The men looked at him oddly.  
“Sounds like a plan!” a veteran sergeant grunted amused.  
“Are we ready?” Nico yelled.  
“Oorah. Oorah. Oorah!” the men cried.  
The Enemy officer’s armoured car rolled up.  
“What’s all this about?” Luke’s voice crackled through the loudhailer.  
“The men are just getting riled up for the coming battle!” Nico yelled back.  
“Very good!” Luke said smugly. “That’ll be all.”  
The German vehicle drove off in a cloud of dust and sand, unaware of the ranks of Italians glaring daggers at the retreating backs of the enemy.

A week later the Italians stood, in their neat, uniform ranks before the walls of Tobruk. Lines of barbed wire, mines and watch towers, trenches and machinegun posts separated them from safety.  
“Fix bayonets!” Nico hollered. “Raise the standard!”  
A Loudspeaker nearby ordered the advance in Luke’s smug voice. Nico could almost see the matching sneer.  
“Advance at a march!” Nico yelled.  
The ranks of Italians, in uniforms dirty and ragged with the deserts abuse marched silently forward rifles on their shoulders like an honour guard towards the guns of their friends.

 

Percy and his squad crouched in the trenches of the first line of Tobruk’s defences.  
He peeked out at the amassed ranks of the Italian infantry, knowing Nico was out there somewhere.  
He did a double take when he heard Nico's voice, strident and clear sounding the advance. He stood up, exposed before the enemy to see the small Italian leading the advance. He watched their comically straight ranks; the rifles raised skywards on shoulders and the men’s apprehensive expressions. He saw Nico’s eyes scanning the allied lines until they focused in on him.  
The swarthy Italian flashed him a quick grin before nodding to his lieutenant who stood by his shoulder.

 

Nico marched forward, his men behind him in their parade ground ranks like a legion of the soldiers of Rome. They advanced and Nico's eyes continually scanned the defences of those before hi to see a familiar face.  
There in the centre. The closest trench. Percy stood, like a man admiring his garden.  
Nico could only smile at his foolhardy friend.  
He nodded to Giorgio.  
“Fix handkerchiefs!” the Lieutenant called.  
As one the men of the Italian force stopped and pinned their white handkerchiefs to their bayonets like hundreds of little flags.  
Then without allowing time for the Germans to realise their ploy they charged.

Percy watched as the Italians raised their littler white flags and ran towards the cover of his position.  
“Leo! Radio command…. Tell them the Italians are defecting!”  
Within seconds the crackling of the radio and Leo’s frenzied chatter signified then message was sent.  
The Italians rushed forwards, metres from the safety of the trenches a German machine gun opened up to their rear.  
Bullets mowed down the Italians soldiers at the rear.  
Cries and screams formed a horrific chorus to the chatter of machine guns and the sudden whoop and screech of shell fire.  
Nico turned to find Giorgio was missing; a few yards back he lay, floundering in the dust, a patch of crimson blood seeping from under his tunic staining the sandy material with glistening blood and dust.  
Nico ran back and grasped his subordinate, hefting the man over his shoulder he staggered under the weight towards the safety of the trench.

 

Percy saw Nico stop to save his comrade, saw the little Italian struggling under the man’s weight as he, like a hero, tried to carry him to safety. He also saw the machine gunner across the battlefield spot the two men and swing his gun wildly towards them.  
Percy sprung from his trench, avoiding the grasping arms of his team who tried to pull him back to safety. He scrambled forward taking the injured man’s weight from Nico's shoulders to his own before pushing Nico behind him he ran towards the safety of the trench. The bullets of the foe cast a hail of steel around them, sending fountains of sand flying, but by some divine intervention, never hitting the trio and they dove into the cover of the trench.  
Giorgio was quickly handed to Hazel who began the lengthy process of patching up the injured man.  
Nico turned to Percy, visibly deflating as the adrenaline wore off.  
Percy clutched the smaller man to his chest pressing desperate kisses to his forehead.

Hours later, after the enemies assault was weathered and repulsed, Percy stumbled into his quarters, exhausted. He slumped down onto his bunk mind frazzled after hours of fighting and reports.  
He was just beginning to undress when the curtain that stood for a door was pulled aside and an incredibly sexy looking Nico slipped into the room.  
Percy his back to the door and his trousers around his ankles nearly collapsed when Nico piped up from behind him. “Nice view.”  
Percy teetered as his trouser bound legs prevented him gaining his balance, the tall soldier with a girlish cry, fell to the bed.  
“Eager are we?” Nico joked, overplaying the Italian accent to make Percy blush a delightful fiery crimson.  
“Uh…” Percy stuttered.  
Nico slunk seductively forward, tugging the boy’s trousers off, before straddling Percy as the older lay on the bed. Nico ground down onto Percy's erection with his arse, white deft hands unbuttoned and removed Percy’s battle tunic and shirt, leaving the broad tanned expanse of Percy’s chest bare to Nico's adoring gaze.  
The smaller man kissed a passionate trail of kissed down Percy's neck and chest. It was here Percy's officer instincts took command and he flipped Nico over so he was sat on the bed and Percy stood before it.  
Nico could only stared more when Percy tugged off his boxers to reveal his eight inch dick. Nico’s mouth watered. Percy looked expectantly at Nico as the younger boy leant forwards and planted a kiss to Percy's tip. Percy groaned, his hips bucking forwards. Nico took this as a sign and bobbed his head further down Percy's dick. Percy threaded a hand into Nico's hair and the older boy began thrusting into Nico's tight hot wet mouth, roughly slamming his cock, deep into the boy’s throat. Nico gagged a little but enjoyed the rough slamming of his throat by Percy, the weight on his tongue, the fullness of his mouth, and the feeling of control he felt as the older boy lost control, moaning loudly and thrusting harder into Nico’s mouth, pressing the boys nose into his pubes as he thrust upwards. Percy continued thrusting, occasionally pushing down into Nico’s throat until the boy gagged until he felt near completion.  
Percy pulled out panting before pulling himself up onto the bed beside Nico. With gentle hands and an expression of wonder Percy undressed Nico, pulling tunic, shirt and trousers from the slender man. Nico blushing embarrassed tugged off his own underwear to unveil his own, proportionately smaller but still perfect dick, nestled in a small forest of black wiry hair.  
Percy stroked a finger up the cleft of Nico’s arse to find it slick with lube.  
“you’re prepared?” Percy stuttered out.  
“What’s your motto again, Always be prepared?” Nico answered coyly.  
“No mine’s go in hard and fast!” Percy joked. Grabbing Nico, pulling the smaller boy under him before thrusting into the smaller boy.  
Percy gasped. Pushing forwards he suddenly slid deeply into Nico. Nico cried out in pain at the raw burning in his arse. Percy hesitated as he realised the pain his partner was in, unsure how to proceed he looked into Nico’s eyes and saw lust clouding the smaller man’s eyes. Percy thrust further into Nico until his cock he bottomed out, a burst infinitesimal pleasure overtook Nico and he cried out to Percy begging wantonly for more, harder, faster, rougher as Percy’s cock pounded his skinny frame, wrenching great shudders with every blow to his prostate. Percy complied, withdrawing out of Nico in his entirety then slamming back in. in out in out in out. Harder, harder, harder. Faster, faster, faster. His cock pounded Nico’s tinny frame. Nico clenched muscles in arms and legs to prevent himself collapsing under the weight of Percy's thrusts. As Nico reached climax with a little help from Percy hands stroking his straining cock, Nico cried out in ecstasy. Then with a great shudder Percy came also, filling Nico once again with his seed, claiming the limp form of his comrade as his own. Percy chuckled as the little Italian below him who dozed lazily on the edge of sleep. Percy pulled the covers over them and wrapped himself around Nico, spooning the boy.  
The next morning they would face the consequences but for that moment they marvelled in each other’s embrace.


End file.
